Wald broke down instantly, shouting, “I’ll talk! I’ll talk! Let him go! Let him rest in peace! I’m begging you!”

The mage sighed softly, a faint look of disappointment appearing on his face. “You gave in so quickly? I thought you’d be tougher than that.”

As he spoke, the ‘corpse’ in the graveyard lost all signs of life and lay back down in the grave.

He walked over to the Ironclaw Wolf. “Speak.”

The Ironclaw Wolf whispered a few words, revealing the location of the treasure.

After listening, the mage turned and glanced at the sheep pen. The iron cleaver stuck in the pen suddenly shot up, flew a dozen meters through the air, and slashed down on the Ironclaw Wolf’s neck.

‘Splat~’

The Ironclaw Wolf Waldron was decapitated.

The mage picked up Waldron’s head, wrapped it in a cloth, then turned to glance at the sheep pen, gave a faint smile, and walked deeper into the bandit stronghold.

Lawson watched the mage leave, knowing that he was most likely going to look for the treasure chest.

He was struggling fiercely inside.

“This is a mage, and his methods are formidable. Should I take a chance and try to become his apprentice?”

“But he’s ruthless, killing without hesitation. Judging by his face, he’s not the forgiving type. If he doesn’t want an apprentice and I force myself on him, I’m afraid...”

“It seems all the bandits in the stronghold are dead, and there are so many wild beasts and poisonous insects in the forest. I don’t even know the way out. If I stay here alone, I probably won’t survive.”

“Whatever, sooner or later I’ll die anyway, so I might as well take a shot!”

After a fierce internal struggle, Lawson gritted his teeth, crawled out from the haystack, took a few steps out of the sheep pen, and shouted at the mage’s back, “Sir, do you need an apprentice?”

The mage didn’t stop walking, didn’t say a word, but also didn’t attack Lawson, as if he didn’t exist.

This reaction actually gave Lawson a glimmer of hope.

When doing business, as long as the client hasn’t directly rejected you, you still have a chance, because they’re probably waiting for you to show your trump card.

What was his trump card now?

Right, he could draw... and his skills were ‘astonishing.’

He immediately shouted, “Sir, I’m hardworking and willing to do anything, and I can draw—very well, in fact.”

The mage seemed moved, stopped in his tracks, and half-turned to look at Lawson. “I killed your two companions. Don’t you hate me?”

“They weren’t my companions. I was forced to stay with them.”

“I can manipulate corpses, cast curses, and control poisonous insects. I’m a thoroughly evil mage. Aren’t you afraid?”

“But you didn’t kill me, did you?”

“Heh~~~ Interesting... All right, I just happen to need an assistant to carry my bag.”

With that, he tossed the cloth bag containing the head to Lawson’s side. “This filthy thing can be exchanged for money. You carry it for me.”

Lawson let out a sigh of relief, immediately ran over to the bag, and as he picked it up with both hands, he could clearly feel the soft, warm texture of the human head inside.

The thought that there was a real head inside—and that its owner was someone he knew—made his heart pound uncontrollably.

‘Never thought I’d actually pick up a dead man’s head with my own hands.’

This was a big psychological shock for him. In his mind, there was a ‘click’ and another screenshot appeared on the desktop, showing him holding the head in both hands.

Fortunately, Lawson was experienced and far more mentally strong than an ordinary teenager. After a brief moment, he returned to normal.

He hefted the bag onto his back and strode after the mage.

------------

Chapter Three: Magic Is the Path to the Heavens

Morning.

The wind and snow had stopped. The sun showed a weak smile, casting its pale, feeble light over the snow-covered forest.

In the woods, Lawson wore a rabbit-fur hat, a large animal-skin coat reeking of sweat, and a pair of oversized leather boots, looking like a dumpling with not enough filling.

He carried a large trunk on his back, trudging through the snow-covered, rugged mountain path, struggling to keep up with the gray-robed mage.

The trunk was huge, weighing over 40 jin (about 20 kg). For a skinny fifteen-year-old boy, it was a heavy burden.

The leather straps dug deep into his shoulders. With every step, he could hear his shoulder joints creak and groan, as if they might snap at any moment.

The mage, however, walked briskly, showing no intention of waiting.

As the distance between them grew, a cold voice drifted to Lawson’s ears on the wind: “Boy, walk faster. Don’t make me wait for you.”

“Yes, master.”

Lawson tried to quicken his pace.

The mage immediately stopped, turned, and stared coldly into Lawson’s eyes.

“No, I’m not your master. Remember, you’re just my bag carrier. If you can’t carry it, then get lost.”

“Understood. Then how should I address you?”

“My name is Silas.”

“Yes, Mr. Silas.”

Lawson promptly changed his address, his attitude extremely respectful, leaving no room for criticism.

The trunk was indeed heavy, and the straps hurt his shoulders, but for Lawson, who possessed the soul of an adult, these were easy to endure.

Most importantly, he was full and warm, which was far better than the hunger and cold of the previous month.